


the world in your eyes

by iserlohn (lincesque)



Category: Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu | Legend of the Galactic Heroes
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 20:43:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15693033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lincesque/pseuds/iserlohn
Summary: Oskar is five when Yang Wenli appears in his life like a tiny, dark-haired whirlwind.where yang and oskar meet in childhood and grow up to be the most influential combi in the empire





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beingevil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beingevil/gifts).



> everything is chris' fault as usual (but to be honest i really just wanted baby!reu and baby!yang growing up together and being positive influences on each other's lives and being happy together)
> 
> and also i got some [commissioned art back today and it's so friggen beautiful](https://sketchmob.com/?jb_action=order_public&oid=154260)
> 
> pls don't expect too much plot, this is just a fluff piece to assuage my own feelsfest XD they'll be tiny little chapters when i feel like pointless fluff ha, no idea how this will go or how it'll end

i.

Oskar is five when Yang Wenli appears in his life like a tiny, dark-haired whirlwind.

The other boy is the one who ends up initiating their first interaction, sitting down without fanfare next to Oskar beneath the latter's favourite tree and holding out his book.

“Did you want to read this with me?”

Oskar looks up from where he had been leaning against the thick trunk of the tall tree, hidden in a little grove off all of the familiar paths that weave through the local park. He has no idea how the other boy managed to find him, this is his secret hiding spot, far away enough from the central part of the park that no one cares enough to disturb him.

He frowns at the unwelcome intrusion, and even at five, he’s already learning to perfect the cold, haughty facade that will eventually become his default expression. 

“Who are you?” Oskar asks abruptly before he goes back to staring into the distance, turning his head away to face the opposite direction. It’s a little rude of him perhaps, but things are particularly bad at home today, with his father back in the mansion again from wherever else he usually spends his time.

There's a pause before a flurry of movement when the boy shifts, standing up again. Oskar is just thinking 'good riddance' when a small hand is thrust into his line of sight. He's once again forced to glance up at the other boy who, to his surprise, has not actually left as he had originally expected. Instead, he's standing before Oskar, hand outstretched for a shake, staring at him with wide dark eyes peeking from behind messy black hair that falls across his forehead. 

“I’m Yang,” he says and his voice is soft but genuinely friendly. He smiles and the expression is so sweet that Oskar’s guard relaxes automatically, and he finds himself raising his own hand to take the smaller one into his own. 

“Oskar,” he says simply in reply.

Yang smiles again and sits back down, picking up his book once more from where he had placed it on the ground. “So,” he asks again. “Did you want to read this with me?”

Oskar looks at the book, a hardcover copy of the Empire’s history and then back at Yang’s hopeful gaze. “... if you insist,” he says, pretending disinterest as best as he can.

Yang must be new in the area, to want to associate with Oskar of his own volition like this. He’ll learn soon enough why the other children exclude him, so Oskar knows better than to get his hopes up or become too friendly.

_Cursed bastard. You should never have been born._

Oskar freezes, thrown back into the middle of that night again, a nightmare that he never can be rid of. It’s only when a warm hand touches his shoulder that he starts, physically shaking himself out of the memory with a sharp side to side jerk of his head.

Yang’s frowning at him but it looks more concerned rather than annoyed. “I mean, you don’t have to. We can do something else instead if you like?”

“Why are you here?” Oskar blurts out.

Yang blinks, tilting his head slightly. “What do you mean?”

Oskar looks at him, with his neatly tied bow resting against his collar and the expensive but understated clothing. He’s clearly a loved child, rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed. Oskar can’t quite understand why Yang would choose to come to sit with him when he knows there are many other more sociable and friendly kids playing together in the gardens proper.

“Why are you talking to me? The other children -”

Yang wrinkles his nose. “They said some mean things,” he admits, looking a little unhappy to recall what he had heard. “But my father always says that I should decide things with my own judgment.”

“And,” he glances at Oskar, suddenly a little shy, fingers tracing over the gilded gold lettering of his book. “You looked sad and lonely and I just wanted to see you smile.”

*


	2. Chapter 2

ii.

Yang is six when he barrels into his house, the tall, imposing building that his father had bought for them when he finally chose to settle in the Empire over a year ago now. Yang Tailong's business ventures had been booming, his trade route and market share on spices and other little high-class trinkets ludicrously profitable in both the Empire and Alliance as well as Fezzan. When his son had turned five, Yang Tailong had decided to honour his late wife's wishes and put down solid roots so that Yang Wenli could have a normal an upbringing as possible. 

“Dad!” Yang rarely makes such a loud commotion at home, normally a quiet, soft-spoken child, hard to surprise or ruffle even at such a young age. 

As their housekeeper likes saying, Yang is very much prone to acting older than his years, a glimpse towards the unflappable, calm adult he’ll one day become.

Yang Tailong is intrigued enough that he actually steps out of his antiquities room, away from his precious collection, just to check on his only son.

“Wenli?” Yang Tailong guides him by his shoulder to the closest living room, the one with the soft fabric sofas instead of the standard leather, Yang's pick, and also coincidentally the room that they spend most of their time in if there's no guests around to keep up appearances.

Yang’s eyes are bright and he’s clearly excited, unable to sit very still, shifting his weight from one side to the other. He’s holding something cupped in his hands that he holds out to show his father.

Yang Tailong picks it up and even with just a single glance and feel of the weight of the object, he can immediately tell that’s it’s an heirloom piece. A second, closer look yields a family crest across the front, a golden eagle with flared wings in pride of place and when he realises what exactly it is, he’s hard-pressed not to drop it from shock value alone.

“Wenli,” he says, holding it back out and watching as his son takes it back happily, small fingers closing over the priceless piece of jewelry. He thinks he does a good job at keeping his voice remarkably steady under the current circumstance, as his young son holds the seal and embodiment of power to another noble family, something that people in the Empire are known to start blood soaked feuds over. “Where did you get that?”

Yang smiles sweetly, cheeks flushing a little, clearly still completely unaware of what he held. “Oskar gave it to me, as a promise.”

Yang Tailong smiles back a little weakly. He knows of Oskar von Reuenthal of course - his son’s best and arguably only friend. He finds the other boy a little distant if perfectly polite, but not exactly the sort of friend he had imagined for his little Wenli. However, he has also seen that icy demeanor melt immediately whenever Reuenthal was together with Yang and he trusts his son to be able to make his own choices, as he’s always advocated.

“And what did he promise you?” Yang Tailong asks, not a hundred percent sure he even wants to know, but knowing that he needs to at least ask, as a responsible parent.

Yang slides the too-big ring onto his left ring finger, obviously repeating the motion from a previous instance and looks up at his father, holding his hands close to his chest. At that moment, there’s a strength of resolve and unshakeable belief that doesn’t quite belong in the eyes of a six-year-old boy. 

“He’s promised me that he’ll marry me once we grow old enough.”

*


	3. Chapter 3

iii.

Yang’s been troubled lately about something that he doesn’t want to talk to Oskar about. At least, he doesn’t want to talk about it right now.

Oskar’s patient though, especially when it comes to Yang. He knows from experience that he can wait it out, whether it takes three hours or three months. Yang will eventually cave in and tell him. They’re turning ten this year and Yang is the closest thing to family that Oskar has now that his father is gone.

He’s right though, after several weeks of tiny, furtive glances and the strange, contemplative expression that trickles over Yang’s features when he thinks that Oskar isn’t watching, Yang finally decides that it’s time.

They’re sitting underneath what Oskar’s been calling their tree ever since the day Yang had barrelled into his life and made everything brighter and happier, shoulders brushing. Yang closes the book they’ve been reading from, both of them had been working their way through with a little difficulty through the outdated formal phrasing, and he turns to face Oskar, expression serious.

Beneath the bright light of the late afternoon sun, filtered through the leafy foliage of their tree, the ring around Yang’s neck, secured by a thin chain, glints both silver and gold.

Oskar smiles, feeling his expression soften when he looks at it, a physical sign of their bond and their future pledge. Yang notices this, finely attuned to Oskar’s moods as always, and if anything, his look grows even grimmer.

“We need to talk,” he says. Despite how ominous the words may sound, Yang doesn’t move from where he’s basically pressed up against Oskar’s side.

Oskar reaches over and touches the ring, _his_ signet ring, before his fingers slide up and he pats Yang gently on the cheek, pinching it teasingly. “So serious?”

Yang leans into the touch for a moment before he draws away. “We can’t get married,” he says abruptly in the aftermath, while Oskar's fingertips still feel the lingering remnants of warmth from Yang's skin, the words almost tripping over each other in his haste to get them out.

Oskar’s hand freezes in mid-air before he lowers it slowly, heartbeat slowing as a sliver of despair twists its way through his chest, pooling heavy and low in his gut, making him feel slightly nauseous. 

“Have you changed your mind?” he asks, sounding much calmer than he feels.

Yang shakes his head so fast that Oskar feels dizzy just watching him. He’s the one who leans over and grabs Oskar’s hand, eyes wide and earnest. 

“No! Never! I promised you,” he says fiercely, small hand warm against Oskar’s own. He’s obviously sensed Oskar’s distress despite his best attempts to hide it and is doing his best to reassure him.

Oskar grounds himself in Yang’s touch, clutching back at him, fingers tight as he forces his breathing to remain steady. “Then why -?”

Yang loops the pointer finger of his free hand through the chain that holds the ring, twisting it around the digit and letting it loose, rinse and repeat. It’s a habit that he’s gotten into over the last few years, ever since he started wearing the ring around his neck, and he does it whenever he’s distracted or nervous.

“It’s not legal,” Yang says quietly, eyes downcast. “I read about it in a book, we can’t get married here in the Empire.”

Oskar considers this briefly. “Did you want to go to the Alliance instead?” he asks, completely serious. If Yang just says the word, Oskar will find a way to make it happen.

Yang shakes his head again, a slow side to side motion that manages to mess up his overly long fringe even more. Oskar reaches over with the hand not holding onto Yang’s and smooths the dark strands back into place.

“Then there’s only one thing to do, I guess,” Oskar tells him, tucking the longest lock of hair behind Yang’s ear, waiting until Yang looks up and meets his gaze, an unspoken question in his eyes.

Oskar presses a brief kiss against Yang’s cheek, feeling his own face flare with heat at his own daring. Even though he’s already promised to marry Yang, but beyond holding hands sometimes, he's never done anything like this before. This is literally the first time that Oskar’s been bold enough to actually kiss him. He finds that he likes the feeling of Yang's soft skin beneath his lips though and already, he wants to lean over and do it again.

Yang's face is also flushed but he's smiling, expression happier and less worried than it has been for a long while. Oskar's missed his smile, so he intertwines their fingers together, tight, a silent reminder to the both of them that they'll never be apart no matter what.

He lifts his chin and says, matter of fact, “We’ll just have to become powerful enough so that we can change the law with our own hands.”

*

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr](https://fortress-of-iserlohn.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
